


Flower in the Inkwell

by Eighthofhearts



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4526247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eighthofhearts/pseuds/Eighthofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern day human AU where the Eighth Doctor meets his companion, Charley Pollard, and falls in love with her all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower in the Inkwell

        With ears deafened by the silence of the day, John Smith decided it was best to get away from his shop. He had tended to his small flower shop since the break of dawn, arranging the few orders for the odd wedding or so, but mostly just making sure the place looked presentable. However, his work would go unnoticed, as the store remained empty until he briefly closed for lunch.  
        It was a quiet day, in more sense than one. Not only had the shop remained untouched by patrons, it seemed as if the streets just outside were much the same. John thought it odd, but didn't pay much mind. He was normally optimistic about his day, opting to eat his lunch in the store in case customers arrived, but the days seemed to be less and less eventful for him. He'd be lucky if he made a single sale by closing. With him, his optimism went straight out the door. He was no longer excited about the day, like he normally was. The quiet tedium he once reveled in was now boring him to tears. A change of scenery is what John needed, and that's just what he intended to get.  
        Thankfully he didn't have to travel too far to find a comfortable, new sight. He had lived and worked in the neighborhood for many years, but never once took the opportunity to explore the beautiful Westmead park. He would walk past it daily, never stopping to admire the golden leaf trees, or the menagerie of tame wildlife, or even just the people. Just a few blocks from his desolate shop there were signs of life, of beautiful, colorful, lively people.  
        John was not one of these people. He was grey and boring, nothing immaculate about him. He supposed that was why he surrounded himself with the flowers in his shop, their color and beauty making everything seem just a bit brighter. But it was useless. He couldn't see their vibrancy past his own plainness.  
        He entered the park in search of a bench, but upon spotting the park's famous Conrad Rock, he decided to get a bit more adventurous. With his bagged lunch in his mouth, he scaled the side of the giant stone, losing his footing at one point, but making it to the top safely.  
        “You do realize you could have walked another 10 yards or so and not have had to climb up here?”  
        John jumped at the sound of the voice. He turned to see that he was not alone on the rock, but that he was accompanied by a young lady with a sketchbook in her lap.  
        “Um, uh, well,” John fumbled. He tried to regain composure and respond, but all that came out was a nervous grin.  
        The woman shook her head and smiled before turning her attention back to her book.  
        John stared in the woman’s directions for a moment before he turned his attention back to his bagged lunch. It was the same thing he had everyday, a turkey and cheese with mayo and rye, it was boring -- like him. Just as he was about to take his first bite, a loud ringing sound draws his attention away. He looks up to see a man approaching the rock, pushing a large, metal truck in front of him.  
         “About time, I’m starving!” the woman called out loud, sliding down the front of the rock. She ran in the direction of the man, trying to flag him down as he continued down the park’s path.  
         John looked down at his lunch and then back up at the cart.  
         “Screw it,” he said, tossing his sandwich off the side of the rock, which was ravaged by a swarm of pigeons mere seconds later.  
         John awkwardly slid down the face of the rock, accidentally sliding through a wet spot on the way down. He chose to ignore the dark mark on the seat of his pants, even though the sensation of the now hugging fabric was uncomfortable.  
         He joined the woman, who was just paying for her lunch as he approached. He took a look at her food and decided perhaps he shouldn’t have been so hasty in tossing his own side.  
         The woman looked up at him as she began to eat.  
         “Trust me,” she said, her mouth half full, “it’s a lot better than it looks.”  
         John shrugged, “I’ll have what she had… I guess.”  
         The man at the cart assembled the food, which turned out to look like a very greasy sandwich, stuffed with chopped onions, that hung out the sides and dripped near John’s shoes.  
         “Thanks,” John said wearily as he paid for his food.  
         He began walking back to his spot on the rock, sniffing the strange sandwich along the way. It actually didn’t smell half bad, and as he reached his spot, he took a huge bite. Instantly he felt a warmness inside him that wasn’t just from the actual heat of the food. He was feeling a genuine, full body warmth that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t help but crack a large smile, emulating the fulfilling feelings from within him.  
         “I told you they were good,” the sketching woman called, looking up from her book. She hooked the small bag beside her under her arm and scooted towards John, joining him as he ate. Normally, he would have questioned why the woman chose to sit with him, but he was too busy enjoying his food to care.  
          She sat quietly beside him as he finished his food, looking up from her sketchbook ever so often to smile in his direction. When he finally finished, the woman decided it was a good a time as any to chat him up.  
          “You don’t get out much, do you?”  
          Despite the unprovoked question, John didn’t seem too surprised. It wasn’t if he hadn’t already been asked that question a thousand times.  
          “No, in all honestly, I really don’t,” he responded as he wiped the crumbs of his lunch away from his mouth.  
          “I can tell just by the looks of ya,” she smirked, cocking her head slightly, “I’m Charley.”  
          She extended her hand out to him for him to shake, but he was too intrigued by the flares of color poking out her jacket sleeve, starting just at her wrist. When he didn’t accept her hand, she slowly pulled it back, noticing that he had been staring instead.  
          “Is this what you’re looking at?” Charley rolled down her sleeve to reveal a beautifully intricate design of colorful, twisted vines making their way around her arm, stopping just before the crook of her elbow. The elegant design also featured a large, golden butterfly on the underside of her arm, just below her wrist.  
          “Wow, that looks…” John began as he continued to stare.  
          “Painful? Yeah, but it was worth it.”  
          “No… well, yeah, but what I meant to say was,” he paused, looking into her eyes, “beautiful.”  
          Charley smiled warmly, turning away as she began to blush.  
          “I’m John, by the way.”


End file.
